


The Land of Milk and Honey

by Trio



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Breasts, Lactation Kink, Multi, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-18
Updated: 2012-07-11
Packaged: 2017-10-31 07:10:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trio/pseuds/Trio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Giving up on trying to write full stories, just gonna go with the "post drabbles as chapters" thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You might assume from the title and tags and pretty much everything I've done up to this point that these are going to be porny stories focusing on how wonderful breasts are.
> 
>  
> 
> (you would be correct)

Equius could barely register what was happening.

Mere seconds before, Aradia had removed her hooded outfit, baring her body to both he and Nepeta, who was standing next to him.

This girl, the object of his perverse desire for a long time, was now naked mere feet in front of him, floating on prismatic wings.

His eyes swept form her head to her feet, taking in everything. Her hair, her chest, her thighs, the area between her thighs…

His first thought was how horribly inadequate his soulbot design had been.

His second thought was how stupid his first thought was.

Aradia raised her arms as if waiting for an embrace, inviting them. He just stared back, his blank white eyes hidden behind his glasses.

Nepeta moved first. Tentatively, she walked up to Aradia, not bothering to keep eye contact. She was too busy admiring her generously-sized breasts, no doubt comparing them to her own flat figure. She raised a hand involuntarily, almost touching one before stopping and smiling sheepishly.

Aradia's reaction was to take hold of Nepeta's hand and place its palm against her nipple.

Nepeta's eyes widened. Her hand just barely covered the dark red areola. Her fingers contracted slightly, giving the flesh a gentle squeeze.

Equius stood and watched.  He watched as his moirail caressed Aradia's breast, gently rubbing the skin.

Before long, though, she swept Nepeta's hand away from its exploration.  She cupped a hand underneath, lifting her nipple to the smaller girl's face.  It brushed over her lips for a second, then she took it into her mouth, once again hiding the areola from view.  Sucking gently, Nepeta brought up a hand again and began kneading.

Aradia's hand found the back of her head, stroking her hair and holding her in place.

Then she turned to Equius.  Again, she extended a hand, beckoning him to her other breast.

He didn't move.  Every part of him was screaming to just go, to just do it.  Except for the part that recalled his last major contact with Aradia, involving rather heavy mechanical fists flying (in his direction, mainly).

But before he could even begin to settle the internal turmoil, Nepeta let out a surprised mewl and stopped, looking up to Aradia's face.  Her response was a smile and a tiny nod.

After a moment's pause, a grin spread across Nepeta's face, and she renewed sucking with vigor, her hand squeezing hard.  The smile never left Aradia's face, even as she felt teeth begin to graze her nipple.  She gave no indication of any discomfort.

Confused, Equius was put off from his thoughts.  What could have caused that reaction?

Then he saw.

As he had focused on Nepeta, Aradia had been squeezing her other breast.  Now he noticed why: a bead of liquid was growing on the tip of her free nipple.

Milk.

It was milk.

Aradia was lactating.

There was no way he wouldn't take the opportunity now.

He stepped forward until he stood next to Nepeta, who was eagerly sucking up every bit she could get.

Aradia mimiced her earlier motion, raising her breast up to Equius' mouth.  Summoning all his self-restraint, he managed to stop himself from starting immediately.  Instead, he licked the droplet off, tasting her for the first time.

His lips closed around her nipple, sucking hard.  A light trickle ran into his mouth.

Yes.

Like the girl next to him, he began massaging, encouraging the flow of milk from Aradia's breast into his mouth.

Aradia floated above the ground, wings fluttering, as she suckled her two friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up losing the second half of this so I had to rewrite it. Not as good as I hoped.


	2. Cuttlefeeding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of Feferi's chores when taking care of the sea creatures.

Shedding her clothes for the day, Feferi swam towards her recuperacoon. She had been busy, and now her muscles ached. A good long sopor-fueled respite is exactly what she needed.

As she slid into the opening, however, she felt something rub the back of her neck. It was small and squishy, and she knew what it was.

She turned to see a young cuttlefish, floating serenely in the water. She cocked her head and asked what it was doing here, why wasn't it going to sleep like the others?

It responded by jetting slowly down to her chest, swimming inches from her one of her breasts. Flicking its miniature tentacles, it pointed.

Feferi giggled, telling it that feeding time had been earlier. But when it didn't move from its spot, she reluctantly agreed.

Excitedly, the little creature swam a circle, then hurriedly latched itself over her nipple, gripping with its many tiny suckers.

She could feel its sharp, powerful beak close, stopping just short of cutting into her. But she knew that it wouldn't even begin to think of hurting her.

She began to stroke and squeeze her breast, and soon she felt the familiar sensation of milk flowing to her nipple.

But she was still tired.

She hadn't moved from her earlier position, so she lowered herself the rest of the way into the recuperacoon, careful to keep her breasts and the cuttlefish above the slime.

The stimulation caused a small stream of milk to leak from her other nipple. She disregarded it. It didn't matter, she was just tired.

By the time she woke up the cuttlefish would be gone, satisfied and back to its resting place. But for the time being, she was lulled to sleep by its gentle pumping motion and the relaxing slime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and stupid.


	3. Servant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU-ish: Equius reaps the benefits of his blood rank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will love this pairing until the end of time.

Your name is Equius Zahhak.

You hold power.

Your high-blooded status had opened doors throughout your life. And you took every opportunity. Political, military, social, whatever authority you could claim.

Now you are a high-ranking military official, probably the highest rank a blueblood could attain. All decisions were run by you before being made. You could dispatch trolls at will, in every sense of the word. It is of course perfectly natural for an official to regularly kill his underlings.

But your power also had its perks. Your status entitled you to many things a lowblood could only dream of.

One of them is sitting in a room down the hall. She is your own personal milkservant, a lower-green-blooded troll by the name of Nepeta Leijon.

Normally you feel repulsed by anyone below a light teal, but this she's special. You don't know what, but something about her is just right.

She was tasked with providing you fresh milk daily, meaning she is treated with much greater care than your other servants. It would do no good to bring harm to the one you rely on for nourishment.

 

You stand up, brushing aside some documents. They can wait.

Stalking out the door, you make your way down the hall to her door. It's locked shut. She is still a prisoner, after all.

Sliding back the heavy bolts, you push the door open and step inside. It's a very spacious room, containing many basic necessities. A recuperacoon, furniture, and an ablution block, among other things. Functional, but not too fancy.

Stirring from a small pile of cushions, Nepeta rises to her feet. Your eyes fixate on her.

She wasn't tall, the tips of her horns barely reaching your shoulder. She was lean, muscles tracing subtle lines under her skin.

And she never wore clothes. There was no real need to. She was for your eyes alone, and she never left the room.

You gesture to a high table in the corner.

"Kneel."

This was essentially the extent of your verbal interaction. She almost never spoke, and your orders were always simple.

She knew exactly what you meant, though. This was something you did regularly.

Normally, she simply pumped the milk from her breasts, storing them in containers that you later retrieved. However, every once in a while you would go in and milk her yourself. Your justification was that it broke up the monotony of her job, but secretly it was something you always looked forward to. You suspect she knew this anyway

Wordlessly, she placed a large bowl on the tabletop before clambering up beside it. She knelt as commanded, bending forward so that her breasts hung over it. Already beside her, you watch them dangle and sway. Hefting them in your hands, you assess their weight. Yes, she needed to be milked badly.

No need to delay, then.

You begin to massage gently, squeezing her breasts from base to nipple, waiting. Her eyes are already squeezed shut, and she's panting. She always seems to get off on this, and you would never admit it, but you do too.

Although, again, she could probably tell. You're never this gentle with anyone else.

Soon, a telltale dripping sound reaches your ears as drops start to fall into the bowl. You continue, drawing the liquid from her glands. Before long, the flow increases from dribbling to squirting, little jets of milk emanating from her nipples. Most of it lands in the bowl. Some of it misses, speckling the table with tiny white dots. Such a waste, you think.

She's breathing heavily, her face flushed, as you continue to stroke her breasts.

When the bowl reaches its halfway full point, the flow starts to ebb. The spurts are less forceful, and less is coming out. That's your cue to stop. You withdraw your hands, licking them clean. Now it's her turn.

She cups her own breasts over the bowl, squeezing with what she judges to be just the right amount of strength to extract every last bit she can. But even then, she doesn't yield much more. After a minute of trying, it's clear that she's been milked dry. For now.

She sits up and back against the wall, still panting.

You take the bowl and lift it to your lips. Tilting it, you sip its warm contents. The liquid flows into your mouth and across your tongue. The sweet taste assaults your senses, sending your mind reeling. You could probably get drunk off of Nepeta's milk if you had enough. But as you contemplate the idea, the bowl empties. The end is the only downside to this activity, as you are always left craving more. But you'll have to wait.

Opening your eyes (when did you shut them?) you see Nepeta crouching on the tabletop, lapping up the tiny drops with her dirty-green tongue. One of her hands is already between her legs.

You figure it's a good time to leave.

As you slide the bolt back into place, you can hear her moans and gasps through the door.

She always gets off on this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What am I even doing.


	4. Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sollux/Aradia drabble.

Sollux buried his face deeper into the warmth of Aradia's skin, trying to soak up as much as he could. All that time spent with her robotic self had jaded his feelings towards her, and he had forgotten just how much he loved her.

Now all he wished was that he could see her.

His eyes were gone, sight a thing of the past. He was crippled, his other senses too dull to be of any help. And now that he was here, his body pressed to hers, this became unbearably obvious.

He could hear her laugh again, a sound he had sorely missed, but now he couldn't see the corners of her mouth turn up into a smile as she did.

He could feel her embrace, smell her hair, but without the warm twinkle in her eye.

But now, as their skin touched, he almost felt connected to her.

And Aradia was determined to make the connection deeper.

Sollux moaned into her breast as her nimble, reinvigorated fingers flitted across his bulge, stroking it gently. Cradling his head with her other hand, she held his head against her chest. Her heart pounded, filling his ears with the sound of life.

He couldn't get over the fact that she was here. She was here, and so was he, both of them in a state of undress.

Feeling her nipple pressed against his cheek, he turned his head and put his lips to it. It was her turn to let out a moan as he began to suck.

Everything about her was different, and at the same time nothing had changed. She felt, smelled, sounded, and even tasted new, her revived body so wonderfully alive. But it was still her. It was still Aradia, and nothing would ever change that.

His hand felt its way along her leg, passing over her knee and up her thigh. He felt her shiver as it neared its destination, slowing as it got closer, teasing her.

And there it was. He brushed the lips of her nook, dampness clinging to his fingertips, and her breath caught in her throat. He repeated the action, listening as her pulse quickened and she drew another shuddering breath.

Sollux's fingers, trembling with almost as much anticipation as she was, finally slipping into her. She tensed and let out a tiny gasp, pulling his head harder against her breast, her other hand faltering for a second before continuing to stroke his bulge.

Aradia's nipple still in his mouth, he began to rub her in return. He could feel her practically melting, a sensation he himself was experiencing, probably for the same reasons.

He didn't need sight. All he needed was right here in his arms, or more accurately with her arms around him. Blind or not, he had never felt this close to anyone before. He didn't want it to stop.

They spent the rest of the night together, basking in the pleasure of the other's presence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More of a general fix than the others, really.


	5. Peek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave catches a glimpse of something he probably shouldn't have.

It hadn't been intentional, not by a long shot.

Well, at least on his part.

Nevertheless, Dave lay on his bed, door locked, stroking himself slowly, replaying the scene in his head over and over again.

-

Walking down the hall, wondering how much more dull the stupid meteor lab could be, wondering how he could survive three years trapped in that dull grey rat maze.  Three fucking years of shitty food, shitty accomodations, and shitty company.  

His thoughts were cut short when he rounded a corner and literally ran into the person he'd probably least like to see at that point.

Rose was carrying a small stack of books, no doubt her own dumb stories, he thought, that cascaded onto the floor at the impact.  Both of them froze for a second, startled, before she rolled her eyes.

"Nice," she said, snippy as usual.

"Not my fault you felt like being a mobile library."  It wasn't his best comeback, but this place really put him off.

With a sigh, she stooped to gather the fallen items.

"So are you going to just stand there, or help me?"

"They're your books."

No response, but Dave figured there was another eye-roll in there somewhere.

That was when it happened.  As she stacked the books, stood, and bent over to pick them up again, the loose neck of her shirt dipped a little too far.  His eyes seemed drawn there of their own accord, his brain not even registering what had happened.  For barely a second, he could see straight down Rose's shirt, her braless chest flashing up at him.  But that was all the time it took.

He tightened his jaw as she stood up and brushed past him, refusing to lose his composure in front of her.  That would have to wait.  He turned and walked toward his room, keeping his pace measured.

Only after closing and locking his door did he allow his facade to crack.  He slumped against the wall, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor.  His mind raced

_Did I really just see that?_

Yes, he had seen it.  And his body was reacting accordingly.

-

Over and over again.  In his mind he watched her bend, he watched her shirt slacken, he watched her small, pale breasts come into view.

And unlike real life, she would not immediately stand, unknowingly covering herself back up.  He could hold the mental picture there, forever staring down her loose shirt.

His subconscious began filling the memory in, adding details he wouldn't, and couldn't, have noticed, and things that never happened.  Whether they were real or not didn't matter, he just needed the scene to be complete.

He imagined Rose's breasts being larger, swaying and shaking as she struggled with a much heavier stack of books.

He imagined the soft, wrinkled flesh of her nipples growing harder as they were exposed to the cool air.

He imagined her standing up again, her shirt falling back into place, the fabric lightly rubbing against her sensitive skin.

He imagined her shirt made of thinner material, leaving the shape of her stimulated nipples plainly visible.

He imagined a blush creeping across her face as she pressed the books against herself.

He imagined her thin hands sliding up her stomach, tracing lines before cupping and squeezing her breasts.

He imagined her on her hands and knees, bare breasts dangling below her like beads of dew clinging to a blade of grass.

He imagined her gasping in pleasure as she slowly closed a book on her nipple, delicate pink skin gently pinched between the pages.

He imagined the cup of a pump around her breast, her chest flushing red as the device's suction failed to draw out her nonexistent milk.  Or better yet, as the device's suction drew squirt after squirt of pure white liquid from her swollen nipple.

He imagined kissing all over her breasts, traveling from their underside to her collar and back again.

He imagined kissing her nipples, the hardened peaks pressing against his lips, before sliding into his mouth.

He imagined his hand replaced with hers, stroking up and down the length of his penis, waiting for his seed to spill over her waiting skin.

He imagined her breasts wrapping around his shaft, supple flesh sliding against its most sensitive parts.

He imagined coming on her breasts, showering them in white fluid that would slowly slide down over her damp nipples.

It was this final thought that pushed him over the edge.  He came to the idea of covering his sister's chest with semen.

After several seconds of bliss mulling the thought over, reality crashed down hard.  He had just masturbated to an incestuous fantasy involving someone who bothered him to no end.  Not only that, but it had been based on a half-second glimpse down her shirt.

Dave tossed the used tissues in the trash bin before dressing.  He wasn't going to leave the room for a while.  He couldn't possibly face her after that.  He couldn't face _anyone_ after that.  He was disgusted with how easily such thoughts could have overtaken him.

And he was disgusted by the lingering wish that Rose would be more open to such things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In hindsight the original thought behind this was probably too narrow to work into a good narrative. Whoops.


End file.
